


Love Song for a Vampire

by tuesdaysgone



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, M/M, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-02
Updated: 2011-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-26 18:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/tuesdaysgone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...They are entirely alone, and Gerard has been too preoccupied to even sate his thirst, and he is HUNGRY...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Song for a Vampire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alpheratz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpheratz/gifts).



> This is for alpheratz, who threw the idea out on Twitter yesterday. I decided to run with it. It is also her birthday tomorrow, hence why I am speedily posting 700 words of notfic followed by porn. I didn't think she would mind overly much. :D
> 
> Thanks as always to ciel_vert and fleurdeliser for reading things over and cheering me on. You indulge me almost as much as I indulge myself.

_Gerard is vampire nobility who lives on a gorgeous, remote Gothic estate and hosts regular soirees for his vampire peers to come and dance and drink and fuck in the many, many private rooms of his house. The bylaws discourage killing and punish renegades most severely, but Gerard just wants to provide his peers a good time while keeping their relations with the humans who come in contact with their community civil. Most vampires of his age and power have a regular companion, but Gerard does not. Also, plenty of the younger vampires who flock to his society do not, or else just like variety. Which Gerard is happy to provide. Invitees are strictly monitored to make sure relations with the human donors stay safe and consensual._

 _Frank is Gerard’s (human) secretary. He keeps the books and makes sure the oversights stay current and more importantly, does all of the work that needs done in the daylight. He doesn’t usually attend Gerard’s parties - Gerard’s brother is his lieutenant on the vampire side of things and works with Frank to keep Gerard’s guests in line. Also he delights in hinting to Frank exactly what debaucheries go on at one of these parties because he loves to see Frank blush. (Gerard, creepily listening to these conversations, loves this too, loves it in a way that makes him hate himself. His fangs tingle when he watches the pink rush of blood creep across Frank’s skin.)_

 _Frank, meanwhile, is secretly fascinated by these goings-on, and even more so by his employer, who is equal measures kind and remote, endearing and otherworldly. And Gerard develops a fascination as well, that quickly escalates to the level of an obsession. He broods over it for hours on end. Surely it would be most inappropriate to take advantage of his secretary in such a manner? He knows very well that Frank has no fear of vampires, and if Frank truly wished to attend a soiree, become a donor or even a companion, he would permit it (no, he really wouldn’t, Frank is HIS) but Frank has never, ever even hinted at such a thing._

 _Then there is a weekly soiree that Mikey cannot attend, because Mikey has just gotten married. So Frank attends in his stead. Gerard broods about this even more in the days leading up to the event. Frank won’t be the only human there, but he’ll be the only human not there for the express purpose of forming or continuing a liaison with a vampire. What if one of Gerard’s brethren becomes CONFUSED? He does everything he can do, short of actually marking Frank as his own. It goes well. Suspiciously well, and the last straggling guests leave in the weak pre-morning light. Frank doesn’t leave, because Frank is overly dedicated to his job, even after an all-night vampire ball. Gerard has shut himself up in his rooms, but Frank’s heartbeat fairly thrums through the walls. The weather turns violent sometime during the day while Gerard sleeps, and stays that way overnight, storms with gushing rain and high winds and tree branches snapping and flying everywhere. It isn’t safe for ANYONE, not even vampires._

 _Frank retires and falls into a fitful sleep in a borrowed bedchamber, and Gerard begins to feel the first tendrils of panic. They are entirely alone, and Gerard has been too preoccupied to even sate his thirst, and he is HUNGRY. He paces the darkened halls of his mansion all night - he has excellent night vision, he doesn’t need a light, but every time he twitches a curtain out of the way he is greeted by lashing rain on the glass. As soon as the storm dies down enough for Frank to safely leave - in the first grey light of dawn - he finds Frank in his bedchamber and rouses him from sleep and urges him - BEGS him - to leave. And he is WEAK by then - for a vampire - and looking crazed and worn around the edges and Frank realizes the truth. Gerard hasn’t eaten. And Frank is the ONLY ONE HERE._

*

“Frank,” Gerard begs, retreating to the doorway and clinging to the door jamb. He can still feel Frank’s shoulder under his palm, skin warm - so warm. Frank makes a confused little noise after Gerard shakes him awake and fumbles for a flint to light the candle by his bed. Gerard blinks, knowing that his eyes just flared red, reflective like an animal’s. He is an animal tonight, or nearly. Frank gets out of bed. He’s barefoot, wearing only his breeches and linen shirt with the collar and cuffs loosened, the hem untucked. Gerard wants to eat him alive. “You need to leave now.” He just barely chokes back the ‘please’.

He can see Frank’s eyes dart to the window, probably gauging the level of light seeping in around the seams of the curtains. “I -” Frank pauses, eyes running over Gerard. “You look.... Are you quite all right, Gerard?” Gerard nods tightly, and he’s not sure what gives him away, but Frank’s brows draw together and he says, “Liar. You - how long has it been since you’ve fed?”

“I’m not sure,” Gerard admits, then spits out, “Frank -”

“Not even at the party? Nothing?”

“I have responsibilities. I was preoccupied,” Gerard finally snaps.

“And now you’ve made yourself ill,” Frank retorts. He takes a step forward, holds out a wrist in Gerard’s direction. “Suck,” he says quietly.

Gerard actually takes a step backwards, the temptation to grab and sink his fangs in is so great. “No,” he cries out.

“Why not?” Frank asks, frowning.

“This isn’t something - you don’t understand, Frank.”

Frank laughs. “After all these months? What precisely do I not understand? I know you don’t have a companion like some of the others, but you still must feed, so? You find a donor and you do it, Gerard. Just because I’ve never done it, or seen it....”

Gerard’s fingers close around Frank’s raised wrist, almost of their own accord. He pulls the captured joint closer. “You want to see?” He smiles wide to show his fangs, sets the point of one against the thin skin of Frank’s inner arm and runs it from wrist to elbow. He lets the arm drop between them but keeps hold of Frank’s wrist. “A deeper gash, and you could bleed out from a cut like that,” Gerard murmurs. “You know that. Can you break my grip?” Frank doesn’t even try, just shakes his head once: no. “Then you understand what kind of trust you’d be putting in me.” The cut is starting to bleed; Gerard can smell the tang, copper mixed with the sweet sleep-smell of Frank’s skin.

Gerard is shaking with the effort of holding still, but Frank meets his eyes, pushes his arm back towards Gerard’s mouth again. “Do it,” he whispers, and Gerard doesn’t wait for him to change his mind, just licks a broad, slow stripe up the scratch on Frank’s arm before cupping the back of Frank’s hand in his own and sinking his fangs into the wrist.

Frank moans, and just from the sound Gerard knows it’s not from pain. Or if he feels any pain, that he likes it. Gerard reaches out to touch his mind, just a cobweb of thought, and what Frank’s projecting is more of the same: lust; amazement; helpless, consuming arousal. Gerard would echo him if his mouth wasn’t occupied. This is what he was afraid of, and this is what he can’t help but revel in. He realizes then that his throat is still working, that he’s been feeding for quite long enough, and he pulls off of Frank’s wrist with a wet noise. Frank gasps at the loss of contact, and Gerard tugs him closer when he sways a bit on his feet.

“You’re so warm,” Frank murmurs, leaning his cheek against Gerard’s chest where his own shirt gapes open.

“Blood,” Gerard tells him thickly, “But I’ve had enough now so -” Frank cuts him off with a kiss, licking his own blood off of Gerard’s lips as he pushes up onto his toes and licks into Gerard’s mouth.

“More,” Frank pleads against his lips.

“I can’t,” Gerard tells him, “I’ve had enough to tide me over, I can’t take too much at once, I shouldn’t have taken any at all, Frank. I -”

“You should have,” Frank replies, free hand skimming over Gerard’s chest, tugging at buttons. “You can. Anything.”

Gerard is still shaking a bit, the blood - Frank’s blood - coursing through him and throwing his senses into high alert. The sound of Frank’s pulse, the smell of his arousal, the shift of the bones in his wrist under Gerard’s fingers. His perfect face, with pupils blown and a smear of his own blood under his swollen lower lip. Gerard’s not touching him anywhere but his wrist. Gerard’s not touching his mind at all. This isn’t thrall, this is something different.

This is something real.

“How?” he murmurs. How is this happening, he means. He releases Frank’s wrist.

Frank’s fingers slide up his chest, then slip around the back of his neck to bury themselves in Gerard’s hair. “How could I help myself?” he answers.

Gerard can’t help himself either. He finds donors easily enough at his own soirees if he wishes them, willing men and women who will trade a small portion of their lifeblood for the rush - for the thrall. He’s had an arrangement for years with the couple from the village who do his cleaning and gardening; Ray and Christa are willing to let him feed as well, and Gerard’s gotten quite good at it, touching their minds, taking their contentment and doubling it back on itself until they leave as sated as he. He keeps his own mind shielded, always. He doesn’t need to let anyone in, doesn’t want it - until now.

“Frank,” he starts, leaning in to touch his lips to Frank’s, “you’re so beautiful, I can’t -” Gerard’s social circle would be astounded - perhaps derisive - if they knew how long it had been since he’d fucked anyone.

“Can’t what?” Frank breathes, tipping his head back so Gerard can mouth at his neck.

“Can’t resist.” He can, though. He could sink his fangs into the smooth curve of Frank’s throat right now, drain him fully. It’s always in him to do so. But he has control now, and this isn’t about him any longer.

“Don’t then,” says Frank, his fingers slipping through Gerard’s hair as Gerard tugs aside the collar of Frank’s shirt, nips at the jut of his collarbone. A bead of blood springs up, deep ruby in the candlelight. Frank gasps, and Gerard licks up the drop, soothes the mark with his tongue. “You’re the beautiful one,” he says into Gerard’s hair, cupping the back of Gerard’s skull to hold him close.

Gerard pulls back long enough to push Frank’s shirt over his head, knowing that his eyes will reflect the light, staring at Frank anyway. “You,” he whispers. “You’ll look so gorgeous with my marks all over you.” Frank whines, and Gerard chuckles and starts in on the buttons of his own waistcoat. “Something you wanted?”

“This. To see you,” Frank answers, hands joining Gerard’s until Gerard hisses at him to stop.

“No,” he says firmly. “Finish undressing, then get on the bed and wait for me.” The slow thud of arousal that starts as Frank wordlessly obeys surprises him, and he reaches out automatically with his mind, searching for Frank’s presence.

He hasn’t let his shields down around anyone but Mikey for ages - possibly longer than this human, this boy, has been alive. If Frank’s skin was shockingly warm to Gerard’s first touch, his mind is a burning coal, darting, throbbing. _Beautiful,_ he hears Frank say as Gerard strips off his own shirt, _Like ivory. Like bone._ It takes him a moment to realize Frank’s talking about him, another moment to realize that Frank didn’t say it aloud.

The link is deep, if he’s hearing actual thoughts. _Frank,_ he tries.

 _Are you going to fuck me or not?_ The question is teasing, exactly like the tone Frank would use if Gerard had lost his account book or drawn all over the letter paper again.

“Insolent,” Gerard murmurs, crawling up onto the mattress and straddling Frank’s thighs. “You’re not even surprised,” he adds, adding a mental caress to the hand slowly inching its way up Frank’s chest.

“I know what you can do,” Frank breathes. “I pay attention.”

“Do you,” Gerard purrs. He can hear Frank’s heart hammering, feel it under his palm. Frank licks his lips.

“Always. Always watching you, waiting.... You never asked me. Why did -” His voice hitches, and Gerard skims his fingers over Frank’s throat.

“Why did what?”

“Why did you wait until you were dying of thirst to come to me?” Frank pushes himself up in the cage of Gerard’s arms, his mouth suddenly, distractingly close. “And you would have let me leave, made me leave. Why?” His eyes are close, too, pupils blown wide but still a mesmerizing brown-gold.

“Not dying,” Gerard corrects him. “Undead - and Frank, you’re my secretary, not a donor, you never offered -”

“You never asked,” Frank replies, “And I don’t want to just be your donor, Gerard.” He touches his fingertips to the hollow of Gerard’s throat.

“Let’s -” Gerard catches his breath. “Let’s begin there, Frank. You may not want to - it’s not a life for everyone.”

“It has you.” He leans in and takes Gerard’s lower lip between his teeth. Gerard groans. “Bite me,” Frank whispers against Gerard’s cheek. “Mark me. You said you would. Then fuck me.”

Gerard tips his head back as Frank lets his lips wander toward Gerard’s ear, then pushes Frank back into the pillows and settles more heavily on top of him. “Since you asked nicely.”

The first bite is just at the base of Frank’s neck where it meets his shoulder. Gerard makes it shallow, pulls back to let the blood well as he trails his tongue over the bump of Frank’s collarbone and back, lapping messily at the blood before closing his lips over the cut and sucking. Frank moans and pushes up against Gerard’s lips. “More where that came from,” Gerard tells him, pressing a soft kiss to Frank’s shoulder, the hollow of his throat, a stinging bite to the curve of Frank’s pec. He runs his hands down the lengths of Frank’s arms, and Frank lets Gerard press his wrists into the mattress, holds himself quivering but still as Gerard’s mouth tracks over the soft skin of his stomach and thighs. He keeps his mouth well away from Frank’s cock, finishing with one more love bite to the cut of Frank’s hip. Then Gerard pulls back, pushes up onto his knees to inspect his handiwork.

Frank’s creamy skin, once clean, is dotted with bites and marks from Gerard’s mouth, connected with smears of red. Gerard can feel a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, and he idly licks it away. Frank is watching, and he moans softly. Gerard reaches out and touches his fingertips to one of the last bites, brings red fingertips up to his mouth and touches them to his tongue. Reaches out with his mind and touches Frank’s. _I can’t take much more tonight, beautiful one._

“Still not - done,” Frank breathes. He shifts his hips - his cock is flushed hard and wet at the tip and he’s panting a little.

“No,” Gerard whispers. “Not nearly.”

Frank is docile but vocal as Gerard prepares him, undulating his hips in time with Gerard’s fingers and making filthy noises, his fingers clenching and releasing rhythmically around Gerard’s wrist. “Please, please, please,” he begs, and as Gerard slides home - ever so slowly and carefully, a series of short strokes and a hand in Frank’s hair - the litany shifts to “Yes, yes,” both from his lips and in his mind.

He feels like fire, like the sun, like something Gerard hasn’t known in more years than he cares to count. Frank’s right on the edge already, wound tight and spinning out of control from the copper-sharp bite and burn of Gerard’s fangs. Gerard barely has enough time to brace himself and get a hand around Frank’s cock before he’s coming between their bodies, sensations flooding Gerard from Frank’s body and Frank’s mind all in one roaring rush. Gerard presses his face against Frank’s throat and thrusts harder and faster, gasping out Frank’s name and sinking his teeth into Frank’s neck as he comes. Not to drink, just to claim him. His. His. His.

They lie on the mattress together for a while, arms and legs tangled, Gerard’s lips pressed against the final bite mark he’d left. Gerard growls when Frank stirs, but eventually relents, unwinding himself to cross the room and wet a cloth in the basin. He cleans Frank himself, paying special attention to the places where he’d broken the skin, brushing a thumb over the places he hadn’t. Frank watches him lazily through half-shut eyes, naked and sated and beautifully marked. “Still want me to leave?” he drawls.

“Insolence,” Gerard remarks, but his lips twitch this time. He revels in the stretch of the swollen skin, teasing at a fang with his tongue for a moment. “Never,” he answers in a whisper. “Never, never.”

Never, to a vampire, is a long time. He brushes against Frank’s mind gently one more time, but Frank is already falling asleep, so Gerard tugs the mound of coverlets up over them both, curling protectively around him. Morning is for sleeping.

Evening is, hopefully, for more of the same.


End file.
